


Revenge is Sweet

by IncognitoDuck11



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Aftercare, Baking, Begging, Cake, Chocolate Syrup, Counter Sex, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Food Kink, Hair-pulling, I'm Going to Hell, Knifeplay, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Denial, Passive-aggression, Sex and Chocolate, Shameless Smut, Smut, Strawberries, Vaginal Fingering, Whipped Cream, plastic wrap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28598481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncognitoDuck11/pseuds/IncognitoDuck11
Summary: “Good morning?” she broached, faux-innocently glancing back over her shoulder as she started dumping vegan ingredients into a bowl, matching Aria’s stare with raised eyebrows.Aria simply sipped her coffee, apparently unwilling to grant Spencer the gratification of an immediate answer. She blinked once… twice… three times before very deliberately setting her mug down. Her tone was clipped. “Is it?”Spencer threw her head back and blew out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, yes. I ate your special vegan cake. I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”OrSpencer has no self-control and eats the last slice of Aria's cake. Aria insists on revenge. Kinky shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Spencer Hastings/Aria Montgomery
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	Revenge is Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> MORE SMUT. ALL THE SMUT. 
> 
> I'm on a roll lol.

-.-.-.-

Leaning back against the kitchen counter, Spencer took a long sip from her coffee mug. 

It was nearly two in the morning and she was in the middle of a hard-earned break from her assignments, just watching as her girlfriend picked up after herself in their living room. Aria tossed the TV remote onto the coffee table and trashed her snack debris before setting out to tidy up everything else, and by the time she finally bustled over into the kitchen, Spencer's drink had cooled considerably. 

"You okay, babe?" was all Aria said, nabbing a glass from the cupboard to fill with tap water. 

"Yeah," Spencer said, tiredly watching the liquid swirl into the cup. "Yeah, I'm just taking a break." 

Aria gave her a pointed look as she shut the faucet off. “You shouldn’t be drinking coffee this late, Spence.” 

“I’ve still got a lot that I need to get finished,” she countered, tilting the mug to her lips again. Then, cracking a mischievous grin, she tugged at her girlfriend’s shirt to pull her closer and bent to whisper directly into her ear. “And tomorrow’s our day off, remember? I’ll have all day to spend in bed.”

“Fine,” huffed Aria, pecking a chaste kiss on her cheek as she pulled back. She jabbed a commanding finger into Spencer’s chest. “Just please come to bed _before_ dawn this time. I miss my two-in-one teddy bear space heater.”

“Yes, ma'am,” droned Spencer, playing up her exasperation. 

Aria rolled her eyes, grinning. “Oh, shut up.”

After a few kisses goodnight and Aria’s insistence that she not work too hard, Spencer went back to her desk and put her nose to the grindstone once more. In the back of her mind, she registered the sound of the shower running, the scuff of a toothbrush, the faint click of the bedside lamp turning off, and then all was quiet. The deafening silence broke as she got out her laptop and started typing, and again hours later, when her stomach began to growl for something besides coffee. 

She ignored it in order to finish everything up and when she finally glanced at her watch, bleary-eyed, she was surprised to find that it was nearly four in the morning. Her head was aching and the light of the computer screen wasn’t helping matters, so she decided to just shut the thing off. Then she closed her books and stacked them up, organized her papers, and got up, feeling awfully cranky. Mind humming with legal jargon, she shuffled over to the kitchen and yanked open the fridge door in search of sustenance. A quick scan of her options had her torn between a very unappetizing plate of leftovers or the mouth-watering slab of vegan chocolate cake that Aria had very explicitly told her not to eat. 

Her girlfriend had gone on a baking bender recently, and this quarter of cake was its only surviving product. Aria would marry desserts if she could and Spencer had a tendency to inhale food in general like air, so their fridge never stayed full for long when Aria broke out the mixing bowl and flour. They'd had to set boundaries when it came to food since Aria now ate strictly vegan while Spencer’s vacuum tendencies didn’t discriminate, which meant that Spencer should probably leave the cake alone. But her blood sugar was really low and she was _starving_ , and Aria would understand if she had a little bite, just a sliver…. 

Thirty minutes later, Spencer was left staring down at her plate, the last forkful of cake sliding down her throat like glue, crumbs sticking to her sweatpants. A little bit had turned into all of it. 

“ _Shit_ ,” she muttered. She paused _How To Get Away With Murder_ and peeled herself off the couch, panicking a little bit. It was four o’clock in the morning and she was running on caffeine fumes, which meant no driving to their favorite bakery to pick up a replacement cake. And she definitely couldn’t bake one herself, lest she fall asleep while it was in the oven and burn their entire apartment building down. Baking was Aria’s area of expertise, anyway; she couldn’t hope to make anything nearly as impressive. The only option left was to face the music. 

Aria was going to actually kill her. 

Sheepishly, she dumped her plate in the dishwasher and turned off the television, refusing to let herself finish the episode as a sort of self-imposed punishment. She still felt guilty as she brushed her teeth, checked that all the lights were off and the front door was locked, and crawled into bed. Aria stirred as she got settled in, snuggling up to her and murmuring a groggy something that Spencer couldn’t quite decipher. Spencer pulled the comforter over them and dutifully adhered to her usual role of little spoon while she was able to, because she was probably going to wake up dead if Aria got up before her and checked the fridge. Aria took her sweet tooth very seriously. 

When she woke up, she found that her worst nightmare had come true. Aria was already out of bed, and she could hear her banging around the kitchen. _Oh no_. There was a promising lack of enraged screaming, though, so Spencer tentatively went about her morning routine. She half expected Aria to pull a Norman Bates and jump her while she was naked and vulnerable in the shower, but it turned out that her girlfriend hadn't turned into a knife-wielding maniac overnight. Thank god.

That didn’t make it any easier to shuffle into the kitchen, where Aria was now stationed on a bar stool, scanning a book she had propped open on the island countertop and sipping from her favorite mug ( _Prose Before Hoes_ ). She greeted Spencer with the stony glare she used when she was pissed but wanted Spencer to guess why. Green eyes peered at her over the rim of the mug, followed her around the kitchen while she got out the necessary items used to make their usual day off pancakes, the only sounds the clattering of pans and cabinets banging shut. Finally, Spencer couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“Good morning?” she broached, faux-innocently glancing back over her shoulder as she started dumping vegan ingredients into a bowl, matching Aria’s stare with raised eyebrows. 

Aria simply sipped her coffee, apparently unwilling to grant Spencer the gratification of an immediate answer. She blinked once… twice… three times before very deliberately setting her mug down. Her tone was clipped. “Is it?” 

Spencer threw her head back and blew out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, _yes_. I ate your special vegan cake. I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?” 

Aria turned her attention back to her book, responding only with a dissatisfied hum, and Spencer rolled her eyes. She finished making the pancakes with a backdrop of tense silence, irritation quickly replacing her previous regret. Rejection from anyone tended to trigger in her that overwhelming need to be the best at everything, but it was doubly wounding when Aria gave her the cold shoulder. 

And Aria knew it, too. 

Gritting her teeth, Spencer turned the burner off and swept an arm toward the plate of perfect pancakes that she’d assembled. “There. Breakfast is ready.” Her girlfriend only glanced at them and shrugged, unimpressed, whereas she’d usually be ecstatic about having pancakes. She hopped off her stool and went to the cabinet to, presumably, get a plate, and Spencer furrowed her brow when she saw Aria take out a bowl instead. “What are you doing?” 

“Getting breakfast,” said Aria, like Spencer was the biggest idiot on the planet. She watched, confused, as the tiny brunette got out the soy milk and the box of peanut butter Cap’n Crunch and poured herself a bowl. It was unbelievable. 

Spencer let out an indignant snort as Aria sat back down with her cereal and began to eat. “Why did you just sit there and watch me make all of these if you aren’t going to eat any?” 

“Sucks when someone takes all your hard work for granted, doesn’t it?” Aria said casually, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into her mouth and smirking when Spencer’s mouth fell open. 

“Oh my god, you are so passive-aggressive,” cried Spencer. “Aria, you love my pancakes! I’m sorry that I ate your cake, but don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little bit?” 

She was met with a contemptuous stare, a challenge. “No.” 

Spencer felt a rush of angry heat, but she’d caught on to what Aria was doing. She was toying with her, purposefully trying to get under her skin, and she knew all the right buttons to push to do so. They'd done this quite a few times before—argued over stupid things, antagonized each other's giant egos until they came to a stalemate or (the less likely outcome) one of them swallowed their pride and apologized. More often than not it served as a sort of foreplay, and damn if it wasn't insanely effective at getting them both riled up. 

Planting her hands on the counter in front of her and squaring her jaw, Spencer eagerly engaged in Aria’s staring contest. She could play this game all day if Aria really wanted to, and she knew her girlfriend was just stubborn enough to try. Their standoff dragged on for what felt like forever, neither of them flinching, until Aria flashed her eyebrows and returned her attention to her cereal, effectively dismissing her. 

“Okay, fine,” huffed Spencer. “If you're going to be like that….” She spun around and went to work, grabbing a plate and stacking pancakes onto it, and then she rounded the island to where Aria was sitting. Aria just ignored her in favor of examining her cuticles as Spencer dropped the plate of pancakes in front of her, and she didn't react even as Spencer grabbed her wrist, briefly and gently stroking a thumb across her palm before placing a fork in her grasp. “Eat the pancakes, Aria.” 

Aria only scoffed as she pulled her arm from Spencer's grasp and set the fork down, then she turned in her seat and straightened to her full height, grabbing a fistful of Spencer's collar to tug her into a stooped position. “Are you going to _make_ me?” 

Spencer caught herself on the edges of Aria’s chair, now face-to-face with her girlfriend, so close that their noses were almost touching. But this bent posture wasn't exactly comfortable, so she almost immediately tried to push herself backward. The way Aria's eyes darkened in response had Spencer wetting her lips with her tongue, a very particular kind of hunger urging her to abandon the standoffish act and hoist her girlfriend onto the counter right then and there, but she allowed the fingers splayed against her sternum to shove her away, very aware of the benefits of delayed gratification. 

She staggered a little before catching her balance, and Aria turned back around in her seat.

“That's what I thought,” husked the tiny brunette, scooting the pancake plate to the middle of the countertop. “You know, respect is a two-way street, Spencer. You should've considered that before taking what isn't yours. I don't have to listen to anything you say if you don't listen to me.” 

Spencer crossed her arms over her chest and nodded, pursing her lips. “Yeah, that's fair. Enjoy your cereal, then.” She went back around the island and made herself a plate of pancakes, poured herself a massive cup of coffee, leaned against the counter and started to eat. Exactly ten seconds of nothing except the scrape of Spencer's fork tines and the clink of Aria's spoon had passed before Spencer grumbled under her breath. 

“What did you just say?” snapped Aria, eyes darting up from her book. Spencer caught the ghost of a smile on her lips before she managed to straighten her face, and Spencer smirked at her. 

“Nothing,” she snarked, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “I have zero obligation to tell you anything... if you're not going to listen anyway.” 

Aria hmphed. “Well okay, smartass.” 

“You started it,” said Spencer declaratively. 

They began another round of tense staring, but the corners of Aria’s lips were slowly curving upward—a sight that momentarily staggered Spencer’s resolve, but she refused to let it show, narrowing her eyes instead. _What’s in that head of yours, Montgomery?_ she mused, feeling her mirror neurons kick in as she twisted her mouth into a similar grin. 

Finally, Aria sprang to life, hopping down from her stool and closing her book. “I'll be right back, baby. Wait here.” 

Spencer blinked, caught off guard by this sudden change of pace, the casual way the pet name had rolled off her girlfriend's tongue, and watched Aria’s hips sway as she disappeared into their bedroom. The number of things Aria could come back with cycled through her mind, each making her heart jump a little higher in her throat, and it was all she could do to tamp down her impatience while she waited, warmth pooling in her gut. She focused on finishing her plate of pancakes, drumming her fingers on the countertop, ears perked for any sign of her girlfriend’s return. 

Five anxious minutes passed before the sound of approaching feet caught her attention, and she swung her head around eagerly, expecting the exact opposite of what she got. 

Aria was dressed in a normal outfit, the kind she ran errands in, and she barely paid any attention to Spencer as she shouldered her handbag and propped her sunglasses on top of her head. 

“Hang on,” Spencer said, brow furrowing as she rounded the island to stop Aria before she could jet out the door. “Where are you going?” 

“To get groceries, so I can make a replacement cake,” replied Aria, innocently tilting her head as Spencer leaned against the doorframe. She cracked open the door in a manner that was reminiscent of cocking a gun. “Why? Did you need something, babe?” 

Spencer bit the inside of her cheek, glancing out into the hallway, knowing that sound traveled very easily down it and anyone could hear them talking. “ _Yes._ I thought we were–” She made a vague gesture between them.

“What?” 

“Aria, you can't just...” She trailed off, feeling her ears grow warm. 

Her girlfriend continued her innocent act, even resting a hand on Spencer's elbow like the contact wasn't capable of entirely scattering Spencer’s thoughts. “I can't what, Spence? Spit it out.” 

Speechless and entirely flustered, Spencer just let her mouth hang open for a moment. “You can't leave me like… like this!” she finally blurted out. 

“Like what?” came Aria’s coy response, her clueless mask flickering with amusement for a split second before she turned to leave. "I have no idea what you're talking about." 

Spencer grabbed her arm, but didn't move to pull her back, instead she just put her mouth beside her girlfriend’s ear and rasped lowly, “Aria, I need you out of these fucking clothes right now. Do you get it?” 

Aria turned to look at her, hazel eyes dark and lustful. “Oh, I get it.” Impatient and seeing her last chance to initiate something before it was too late, Spencer darted forward for a kiss, but her girlfriend twisted playfully away, pushing a palm against Spencer’s face to stop her advance. “But you'll just have to wait. I'm sure you'll think of something to do while I'm gone.” 

Recognizing this round as lost, Spencer slumped over obediently, her nose smushed against Aria’s palm. Reluctantly, she released Aria’s arm, and huffed pitifully. She grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and pulled it off of her face, momentarily linking their fingers before pressing a gentle, wet kiss to Aria’s wrist—a promise. Aria shivered despite herself, and squeezed her hand tightly before she slipped out the door. 

“I love you,” called Spencer. "Be careful."

Aria swung around on her way to the stairwell and blew her a kiss, added a wink that made Spencer melt against the doorjamb, flex her toes against the welcome mat. She sighed as she admired the way those old dark wash skinny jeans hugged her girlfriend’s curves, and smiled as she remembered once telling Aria that those were her favorite pair on her. Absently, Spencer noticed Aria had stolen one of her favorite hoodies, too, which was something that Spencer always acted like irked her, but she secretly found absolutely adorable. 

Her girlfriend was such an intolerable asshole. 

Utterly amazing in every way. 

But an asshole. 

Spencer shut the door quietly, resisting the urge to slam it just so Aria would hear and think she was really upset, and come running back to make it up to her. She liked to think she usually took the high ground when it came to these petty non-arguments, but really it was a matter of selfishly forestalling her own pleasure. She was definitely cautiously putting the door back on its jamb so as not to disturb their neighbors, not because she knew that waiting was going to make later so much more satisfying. No, not all. Aria was the one being ridiculous. 

Deciding to put her hands to use instead of letting them sit idle, Spencer set about cleaning up breakfast, putting away leftovers. She finished that task with time to spare, and so she decided to tackle the dishes while she was at it. Her frustration converted easily into energy to burn, as it turned out, although washing dishes was the least sexy thing she could think of doing. But maybe that was a good thing, to keep her mind off of Aria in the meantime. 

Once she was finished, she leaned back against the counter, a stray puddle of water dampening the back of her shirt as she folded her arms and considered her options. There weren't many chores that urgently needed to be done, but she didn't want to just stand there and wait for her girlfriend to get home. She wasn't nearly patient enough to keep her hands off herself if she was left bored and alone with her thoughts, so she needed to keep moving. Eventually, Aria would burst through the front door and Spencer could have her wicked way with her. 

Not knowing what else to do, Spencer started pacing.

Maybe ten more minutes had passed before the front door finally opened, and Spencer pivoted on her heel. Aria looked up at her with mischievous eyes, a paper bag cradled in her arms, before she offered a rather coy smile and padded over to the kitchen counter. Her heart already pounding so quickly in her chest that she felt oxygen deprived, Spencer watched as her girlfriend deposited the bag and began sorting out its contents. She strode over and looped her arms around Aria’s waist, pressed against her, nipped at her ear. 

“Am I allowed to kiss you now?” she said breathily, pleased when Aria shivered and leaned back into her, automatically tilting her head back to allow better access to her neck. Spencer crept her hand underneath Aria’s shirt, trailing her fingers across her smooth stomach and up into the cup of her bra. She brushed her lips against Aria’s neck as Aria moaned lightly in response. 

“That depends,” said Aria, reaching up with one hand to slowly rake her fingers through Spencer’s hair. “Can you work a mixer?” 

Spencer furrowed her brow momentarily, playing at confusion. She glanced at the bag of baking ingredients. “Oh. You want _my_ help? But I thought you were pissed at me.” 

“Well, in exchange for your servitude, I might be willing to forgive you for any previous… discrepancies.” 

Of course Spencer would help. Truthfully, she did still feel pretty guilty about the whole cake scandal. Maybe helping Aria bake another would give her a greater sense of atonement, and since she was asking… 

“Okay,” she replied, pecking a kiss on the tip of Aria’s nose. “Although I'm not a very good assistant.” 

“You'll make up for it,” insisted Aria, hazel eyes flickering down to her lips. Her fingers knotted in the hair at the back of Spencer’s head and she tugged lightly, needily, angling her head so she could connect their mouths. 

_Finally_. 

Spencer felt herself melting forward at the action, attempting to fit herself completely to the curves and ridges of her girlfriend’s back, and Aria arched against her, her tongue aggressive as she deepened the kiss. Spencer felt clumsy, almost drunkenly so, as she massaged the supple flesh underneath Aria’s bra with one hand, her thumb brushing her nipple so lightly that her girlfriend gasped into her mouth. 

Wordlessly, Aria rested her free hand on the idle arm that Spencer had wrapped around her waist. She laced their fingers, her smooth palm pressing to the back of Spencer’s hand before she guided it _down_ , beneath the waistband of her jeans. As Spencer brushed the tips of her fingers across the damp fabric she found there, Aria broke away from the kiss and threw her head back. 

“Okay, _fuck_ , Spencer,” she rasped. “I missed you.” 

Spencer worked her lips along the line of Aria’s jaw, palmed her breast, stroked the irritating barrier of her girlfriend’s panties. She smirked at the effect she was having. “You were only gone for an hour.” 

“No, I mean all the time,” Aria clarified, chest heaving breathlessly. “I miss you all the time, whenever you're not touching me like this. God… I wanted you to this morning. I wanted you right here on this counter.” 

“But you were being stubborn,” Spencer reminded her, momentarily pausing her movements. Aria’s eyes flew open and she turned her head to look at Spencer again, her expression one of irritation. 

“You committed an atrocious crime,” she pointed out. “Don't tell me you didn't deserve it.” 

Spencer pursed her lips and quirked an amused brow. “The cold shoulder, you mean? Your passive aggressiveness? You know, maybe I still think that was a little much.” She started to withdraw her hands, but Aria grabbed her wrists quickly to halt them. Spencer shot her a rather triumphant smile, and smirked at the desperation in Aria’s gaze. “Maybe I have a right to be mad at you.” 

“Spencer, don't…” Aria whined, shifting the entirety of her weight into Spencer’s arms, giving her no choice but to hold onto her. “Don't be like that. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you're sorry? I said I was sorry, too.” 

Aria pouted, apparently displeased with the shift in their dynamic. 

“Not so fun when the tables are turned, huh?” Spencer teased. 

“No fair,” said Aria, looking like she might start stamping her feet. “You can't just do that, Spencer. You can't just wrest away all the power like that.” 

Spencer met her challenging gaze once more, unflinching as Aria’s jaw visibly tightened. She decided that just a little more prodding would do the trick. “Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it if I do, tiny?” 

That was enough for the fire behind her girlfriend’s eyes to flare to life, for her stubborn sense of pride to kick in and give her permission to _take_ what she wanted. Spencer relented happily, when Aria yanked on her hair and tightened her hand around her wrist, this time guiding her beneath the fabric of her panties, into slick heat. 

“I swear to god, Spencer,” she hissed. “If you don't fuck me right now…” 

Spencer only nodded, before she pulled away far enough to flip Aria around to face her. She snuck her hands around to rest on her girlfriend’s ass and lifted her, Aria hopping up and wrapping her legs around her waist to help her out. Muscles straining to support Aria’s full weight, however minute it may be, Spencer lifted her onto the island counter. Aria, now at eye level with her, moved forward to kiss her, draping her arms around Spencer's neck. Spencer rested her hands on Aria’s thighs and pressed their bodies together, only moving away when Aria started kicking off her sneakers.

Aria blurted out, “Jeans. Now.” 

“You stole my hoodie,” Spencer commented, as she unbuttoned Aria’s jeans and tugged them off her hips. 

“You can have it back later,” said Aria, grinning as she kicked her pants and underwear the rest of the way off. 

Spencer raised her eyebrows in surprise. “What, are you going to wear it the whole time?” 

“Yep.” 

Spencer just shook her head. “You'll get too hot, mark my words.” 

Aria only shrugged, leaning back on one arm and fiddling with a hoodie string as Spencer pushed her knees apart and kneeled. She kissed the inside of Aria’s thighs first, before burying her face between them. For the long minutes that she worked her mouth, Aria moaned loudly, pushing her hand against the back of Spencer’s head every time she needed more. 

Spencer, pleased with the noise, switched up her technique so her tongue was moving faster and teasing into places that made Aria’s legs tremble. Her girlfriend let a particularly desperate whimper slip from the back of her throat, and Spencer broke away before she could come undone, rising to reconnect their mouths. She waited a few seconds, kissing Aria gently, drawing her back down, until she seemed to calm a little. Then she made sudden use of her hand, slipping two fingers inside her and slowly beginning to pump them in and out, circling her clit with her thumb, and Aria clawed at her back. 

“Oh, _god_ … fuck…” she cried hoarsely, as Spencer picked up speed and started sucking on her pulsepoint. “Oh, _fuck_ … Spence, I… I'm–” 

Her body spasmed once, legs shaking, and Spencer kept up her rhythm until Aria slumped against her, breathing heavy. A nose nuzzled into her neck, arms draping around her shoulders, and Aria laughed breathily in her ear. “I think I pulled a hamstring.” 

“That's your own fault,” said Spencer, laughing at the absurdity of the statement as she pulled back and, one by one, licked her fingers clean. “You didn't stretch. I, however, am loose, limber, and ready to move this to the bedroom.”

Aria dragged a hand through her sweaty hair, looking exhausted but in agreement as she looked Spencer over. “Yeah, you're definitely wearing too many clothes.” 

“Speaking of, how’s that hoodie working out for you? You look like you might be on the verge of heatstroke.” 

“Maybe,” Aria conceded. “But it’s sexy, isn't it?” 

Spencer just rolled her eyes and kissed her in response, resting her hands against the counter as she leaned forward. “So sexy,” she said, pressing their foreheads together when they finally broke apart. She grinned. “Are you sure you can keep up with me, though?” 

“Please.” Aria pushed her off and hopped down from the counter, the hoodie falling down to brush at her thighs. “You're not gonna last two seconds when I get my hands on you.” 

Spencer leaned back against the counter to watch her. “Oh, and why is that?” 

Her girlfriend sauntered around her to get into the grocery bag, pulling out a bottle of chocolate syrup and an aerosol can of whipped cream. 

Spencer blinked. 

Oh. 

_Oh_. 

Popping the cap and plastic seal off the whipped cream, Aria sprayed a tiny dollop of the fluffy topping onto her own fingertip. Quicker than Spencer could react, she swiped that finger against Spencer's cheek, smearing it with whipped cream, and Spencer reflexively jerked away, torn between breaking into a grin and furrowing her brow, panicking. She ended up doing both, although her grin fell from her lips as soon as Aria stuck her finger in her mouth and seductively sucked what was left of the whipped cream off of it. Spencer's jaw slackened as Aria cast a lustful, half-lidded glance at her. 

“I'm craving something besides cake,” she practically purred. “Can you guess what?” 

Spencer, struck dumb by this display, couldn't come up with an answer other than, “W-what?” 

Aria simpered, and then she did something that made Spencer go weak in the knees. She leaned in and languidly licked up the side of Spencer's face, taking off the whipped cream and making stark certainty flicker in Spencer's mind. 

Aria’s breath was hot against her ear. “ _You_.” 

Oh, _fuck._

Spencer swallowed thickly, a tingle of excitement shooting up her spine. “Are you serious?” 

“Deadly,” answered her girlfriend. She quirked a challenging brow. “What's the matter? Afraid of a little mess?” 

Admittedly, Spencer was contemplating how exactly they would clean up, or if they'd just sacrifice a set of sheets, but other than that, she thought this whole idea sounded hot. Hotter than hot. Enough to make her combust where she stood.

“No,” rasped Spencer, wincing as her voice cracked. “I'm not. I'll do whatever you want, babe." 

“Anything?” 

Spencer nodded, fervent. “Anything. Let me make it up to you.” 

“I like that attitude,” said Aria, reaching up to cradle Spencer's face in her hands. She lowered her voice to a commanding husk. “Go wait for me on the bed. Clothes off, I don't want to wait. And take off the comforter so we don't ruin it.” 

Given her marching orders, Spencer accepted them with little complaint, only quirking a curious brow at her girlfriend's take-charge attitude. “Are we…?” 

“We are,” Aria confirmed, shoving her away. “Now get to it.” 

A pleasant shiver crawled down Spencer's spine. She knew this game rather well. And this time she meant it when she said, “Yes, ma'am.” 

Knowing better than to stall, Spencer sauntered towards the bedroom, shouldering through the door, and started peeling off her clothes, shedding her pajama bottoms and t-shirt. She hadn’t put a bra on after getting out of the shower, so that was one thing taken care of, and she stepped out of her underwear. Cool air hit the soft, damp curls between her legs—she was already _so_ wet. 

Rolling out the tension in her neck, Spencer dragged the pillows and heavy duvet off the bed, folded it and set them atop their chest of drawers, then laid down on the cool sheets. It was an older set, faded and wearing at the seams, so she figured they'd be throwing them away depending on the mess they made.

Oh well. 

Attempting to even out her ragged breaths, she slung an arm across her face, closed her eyes, tried to settle into that supernatural calm she'd achieved only a few times before. 

“Hands above your head, wrists together.” 

Spencer flinched, opening her eyes and raising her head to see that Aria was leaning in the doorway, clad in Spencer's hoodie and nothing else, holding a tray of supplies—chocolate syrup, whipped cream, a bowl of whole strawberries, a knife, and… a box of plastic wrap? And scissors? The food and knife was expected, but what the hell was the plastic wrap for?

“Aria, what–?” 

“I thought we could try something new,” said Aria, striding over and setting everything except the plastic wrap down on the nightstand before climbing up onto the bed. She straddled Spencer's waist. “I needed some way to keep you contained.” 

Spencer's brows shot upward. “You want to wrap me up in plastic wrap? Like I'm a… a fucking fruitcake?” 

“No!” Aria wrinkled her nose. “I hate fruitcake. Remember how my grandma brings one to every Christmas dinner and I always want to run away screaming?” 

“I remember,” Spencer said dryly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “But, Aria, please don't make me think about your grandma when you're about to debauch me seven ways to Sunday.” 

Aria giggled. “Right. That's a total turn off. And I don't want to make you a mummy or anything. I just thought that instead of the cuffs… this would be a suitable alternative. I've done my research.” 

“I trust you,” Spencer reminded her. “So are you just going to… wrap it around my wrists?” 

“That's the plan. Got a safe-word in mind?”

With a smirk, Spencer said, “Icing. Seems fitting.” 

Aria grinned back at her. “It does. Now put your hands above your head like I said.” 

Spencer obeyed, and Aria stretched out a length of plastic wrap, deftly wrapping it around her wrists, careful not to make it too tight. “Signal if your hands start to tingle or go numb or anything. All right?” 

Spencer nodded again, her heart starting to pound at the restriction of movement. But at the same time she felt oddly secure like this, the plastic close and warm like it was Aria’s hands wrapped around her forearms, gently yet firmly keeping her in place.

"It's… secure," she muttered, tugging on the restraint to test it as Aria put the finishing touches on. 

"It's supposed to be," said Aria. "And in any other circumstances, I might take a little mercy on you. But right now…” Aria got up suddenly, swinging her legs to the ground, and Spencer watched as she plucked her discarded panties off the floor. She got back on the bed, straddled Spencer’s hips, and dangled the garment over her. “You.” She rested a thumb on Spencer's chin, pulled downward. Spencer obediently opened her mouth, eyeing the panties with saliva pooling on her tongue. “Are.” Then she stuffed them in Spencer's mouth, effectively sealing off the moan that rumbled in the back of Spencer's throat. “My treat,” Aria finished chipperly. "You don't need to move. And you don't need to talk."

She leaned into Spencer's ear. “So how about you snap your fingers if you need to stop?” 

Spencer nodded, breathing raggedly through her nose, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Aria reached over to grab the chocolate syrup first, popped the cap open, slow and deliberate, and then started pouring. 

Spencer sucked in a sharp breath as the cool liquid dribbled onto her neck, pooled in the hollow at the base of it, and Aria dipped a finger in it, bringing it to her lips to suck it off. Spencer squirmed as she watched, which prompted a self-satisfied little smirk to appear on her girlfriend's face. Finally, Aria leaned down to lick the chocolate up, dragging her tongue up along the column of Spencer's throat. Canting her head back, angling to expose as much of her neck as possible, Spencer’s back arched at the feeling, her nose pressing into the crook of her elbow and her eyes squeezing shut as she moaned. Aria’s weight held her down, her girlfriend squeezing her waist with her knees in response. 

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” murmured Aria, earning a hoarse whimper that Spencer couldn't even hope to hold back. 

Aria scooted down for a better vantage point over her abdomen, and then started drizzling the syrup across Spencer's chest, over her ribs and stomach, in neat, careful lines. She reached to grab the whipped cream, shook it, and Spencer's cheeks began to burn as Aria drew a love heart on her abdomen. Next, she watched, mind dazed and humming with arousal, as Aria grabbed the bowl of strawberries and the knife, and she felt her heart lurch painfully at the glint of steel clutched in her girlfriend's delicate fingers. But Aria only set about capping the strawberries, cutting off the calyxes with a surprisingly casual precision. 

She wasn't paying any attention to Spencer, but the smirk on her face and the tilt of her head clued Spencer in to the game at hand. Aria began to whistle while she worked, a cheery melody that was shaded ominous when Spencer looked at the knife. It felt sincerely like Aria was about to turn on her, like she'd been taken hostage, even though Spencer knew it was all an act.

It was quite the thrill, and as Aria began settling the freshly capped strawberries in the whipped cream, Spencer honed in on each sensation she felt, checking in with herself and her senses. The heat of the plastic on her wrists, the cold, sticky feeling of the chocolate and the whipped cream, the smell of strawberries. Aria's eyes, green and bright with a gentle belligerence. The crimson of a strawberry against the rouge of her perfect lips and the white of her teeth. 

Spencer felt lightheaded as she watched a trickle of juice run over her girlfriend's chin, and felt herself begin to tremble as Aria moaned, her eyes fluttering shut as if the taste was damn near orgasmic.

"Fuck, that's delicious," she said, and her pupils were blown as she dragged her eyelids back open, lashes thick and inky. She went in for another strawberry, and then another, and another, until they were gone. Spencer wanted so badly to kiss her as she bore witness to the pleasurable consumption, craving the taste of the berries on her tongue, but she was presented with no such luck. Aria ignored her completely for the moment, using her as little more than a glorified platter, so she was pleased when her girlfriend's attention went back to the stickiness of the remaining topping on Spencer's skin.

Spencer bit down hard on the fabric in her mouth as Aria’s tongue laved across her chest, her teeth teasing as Spencer writhed and groaned beneath her. 

Aria shushed her softly, moving down to her stomach. Spencer didn't miss the fact that Aria paid special attention to the slim, toned muscles there, her tongue gliding so languidly that Spencer wondered if she'd be content to stay there forever. But she didn't, continuing her journey downward, spraying lines of whipped cream along Spencer's hip bones and then drizzling the syrup across the tops of her thighs, so close but so far from where she needed Aria’s mouth to be. Spencer squeezed her hands into fists, her stomach muscles tightening and her legs starting to tremble. 

“God, you’re so wet, baby.” Aria's tone and the light stroke of a single finger between her legs had Spencer falling into a state so abject that she could almost cry. She threw her head back, and moaned. Loudly. Wishing she wasn't gagged so she could beg Aria to just fuck her already. 

As if she read Spencer's mind, Aria was suddenly hovering over her, plucking the musky, soaked wad of fabric out of her mouth and smirking, knife in hand. 

“What do you want, princess? Use your words.” 

Spencer swallowed thickly, the taste of her own arousal still ripe on her tongue, and hesitated. Thinking it was one thing, but saying it out loud…? She still felt weird about it. Uncomfortable. But Aria knew how it made her feel. That was the whole _point._

“I want you to– to fuck me,” she mumbled, the words clumsy and foreign on her tongue. “Please, Aria?” 

“I didn't quite hear you. What do you want, Spence?” 

Her frustration reaching the point where it easily overpowered her chagrin, Spencer said louder, “Fuck me. Please, Aria. God, please. I need it.” 

“Oh, pretty baby needs me to fuck her?” teased Aria, swiping up a stray bit of chocolate and sucking it off her finger. “But I'm having such a good time. I don't think I want to stop.” 

“Aria, _please_.” 

Abruptly, Aria knotted a fist in her hair and _yanked_ , an action that made Spencer cry out. “Think of this as your punishment for eating _my_ _fucking cake_.” 

Tears pricked at Spencer’s eyes as Aria kept tugging on her hair, and Aria finally kissed her then, sweet-tasting and tender before she bit down hard enough on Spencer's bottom lip that she tasted blood. The sharp, sudden pain made the tears slip over her cheeks, but she didn't make another sound, stubbornly taking it as Aria gnawed on her lip. 

When Aria finally pulled away, letting go of her hair, Spencer squirmed under the pressure of her gaze, intense and angry as it was. There was a bit of blood on her lip that she licked off, a cruelty in her movements that made Spencer want to sink into the mattress. 

“I'm sorry,” she said, sheepish but aching with want as she watched Aria watch her, both of them panting. Somehow, though, Aria still seemed so still, so calm.

Quickly getting wrapped up in that stillness, Spencer jumped, not expecting it as Aria lurched forward and held the knife to her throat. The faint, light pressure of the cool, dull metal made Spencer go completely limp, her arousal peaking.

“You're sorry?” Aria snarled, leaning in close enough that Spencer could smell the chocolate on her breath. Her eyes were dark. “You're fucking sorry, Spencer? Because I don't believe you.” 

So caught up in the sensations of metal, the stickiness on her skin, the pain in her lip and scalp, Spencer didn't realize that Aria’s free hand had drifted downward until she felt fingers slipping through her, beginning to rub her clit in tight, fast circles. Spencer bucked into her hand, her mouth falling open as she threw her head back, and, even as she caught the way Aria’s lips curved into a wicked smile, she couldn't help the pleased moans that fell from her lips. She knew what Aria was doing, knew it wasn't going to last, but it just felt so good that all she could do was apologize, over and over, in a vain effort to make Aria take mercy on her. 

“I'm sorry. Oh, _fuck_ , Aria, please. I'm so sorry, just please don't stop,” she begged. “P-please?” 

“ _Please_ ,” Aria mocked. She pouted, lip stained red from strawberries or blood or any combination thereof. “Pretty please?” 

Spencer nodded, feeling a pressure start to build up in her stomach. “Pretty please! Oh, god!” 

Just as her legs were starting to shake, her stomach muscles beginning to spasm, Aria _stopped_. 

Spencer let out a noise that was so pitiful she almost didn't recognize herself. It was a wail, a shameless plea for more that she knew wouldn't be fulfilled. “Aria…” she whined. 

“Spen- _cer_ ,” Aria mimicked, and Spencer pouted back at her, feeling suddenly childish and tantrum-bound. “Aw, are you crying, princess?” Setting the knife aside, Aria reached up to wipe away the tears on Spencer's face, but Spencer twisted away, her cheeks burning as Aria chuckled. “Poor thing. But what did you expect? I'm not going to reward you. In fact, I think it's rather poetic: you deny me cake, I deny you an orgasm. Now we’re even-steven.” 

"Fair enough," Spencer reluctantly conceded, but this was much worse than watching Aria eat cereal instead of her pancakes. Damn near unforgivable, really, even if Aria had denied her before. The whole situation was just so… so delectable that Spencer really wanted to savor it. Wanted to remember it as a scene that had sated her, associate it with positives instead of frustration. Seriously, how many times would they bother to do this again? Spencer might have to wait for another chance to enjoy it. 

She hated waiting. Which Aria also knew.

Regardless, Aria reached for the scissors, cutting her out of the plastic, scene over. Being coddled felt almost as good as an orgasm after being treated so roughly. She was still wound up and throbbing for release, but at least she could roll her aching shoulders out, collapse into Aria's impossibly warm arms, settle into the blanket Aria wrapped around her shoulders. 

"I really am sorry," Spencer murmured, leaning into Aria's neck. "And I love you. You know that, right?" 

Aria chuckled, rubbing her back. "Duh. And I love you, too. Just don't eat what I specifically tell you not to and we won't have a repeat of this. Capiche?" 

"My blood sugar was low," Spencer muttered, like that made it any better. She definitely shouldn't have walked all over their food boundaries like she did. 

"It's okay, Spence. It is just a piece of cake," Aria reminded her. "I'm not actually mad." 

"I know. I still feel bad about it, though." 

"Don't. You've been punished, we're square, and I forgive you." 

And that eased Spencer's residual guilt. 

Spencer nuzzled Aria's jaw, pressed a delicate kiss to the underside of it, breathing in her girlfriend's scent—coconut shampoo and strawberries. "Good." 

A beat of comfortable silence passed, and then Spencer said, "I did enjoy it, though." 

Aria pulled back to look at her. "The cake or the punishment?" 

Spencer shrugged, playing coy. Both. It was definitely both. 

This time Aria laughed out loud. "I'm in love with a masochist." 

“Shut up,” Spencer said.

Aria kissed her on the temple. “Come on. We're hydrating, and then we’re taking a shower because you're _sticky_." 

Spencer shot her a look. "And whose fault is that?" 

They replenished themselves with drinks and snacks, and then they took that shower. Afterwards, they agreed to make another cake, got dressed, and by the time Spencer caught up with Aria, her girlfriend had already spread out ingredients for it. Spencer stood by and watched her work, attempted to memorize the portions and steps that came as easily as breathing to Aria by now. 

Aria’s grandmother had perfected this particular cake recipe, and the only remaining copy of it was trapped in Aria’s brain. She refused to write it down, claiming adherence to tradition since her grandma had been inexplicably paranoid about the recipe being stolen and commercialized. The woman had also apparently dabbled in the occult during her lifetime, and Aria told Spencer that she didn't want to have to sage their apartment to get rid of her grandmother’s vengeful spirit. Whatever the fuck kind of voodoo that was. 

Her future in-laws were a strange sort of people. But, then again, so was Spencer. She couldn’t exactly complain. 

Aria broke out the handheld mixer and shoved it into her arms, then passed her a bowl full of unmixed ingredients. “On medium, until there aren't any lumps.” 

“Alright then,” chimed Spencer, switching the device on and getting to work. 

She didn't notice Aria dipping a hand into the bag of flour, didn't think anything of it as the shorter woman passed behind her. That is, until Aria slapped her on the ass and then dusted her hands off, giggling. Spencer yelped in surprise and twisted around, immediately noticing the white handprint on the butt of her jeans. 

“Aria!” she cried, laughing. “Why would you do that?” 

The tiny brunette shrugged. “Just marking my territory,” she said casually. 

“Excuse me?” Spencer raised an eyebrow and decided to make a grab for the flour bag in a split second. She scooped out a handful of the chalky powder and hurled it in her girlfriend's direction, and Aria shrieked, diving for cover. 

“SPENCER!” 

“You started it,” Spencer defended, taking a wavering step backward at the unhinged fury that bloomed in Aria’s eyes. _Oh, shit._ Now she was in for it.

“And you're cleaning it up?” 

“Um… no?” Spencer guessed. 

_Wrong answer._

Aria stared at her with enough fire to combust the solar system, her hands on her hips and flour in her hair. Spencer saw her life flash before her eyes…

...and then she ran, abandoning the mixer. 

She circled the island as Aria grabbed the flour bag like it was a belt of grenades, on the warpath. Aria wielded a handful of flour as Spencer tried to decide which direction she could run without being caught. They faked each other out a few times, dodging to either direction, until Aria decisively reeled her arm back and Spencer hit the deck, pressing her back to the legs of a barstool. Nothing happened for a few seconds, her heart beating fast and loud in her ears, and naively she thought that maybe Aria wasn't going to deliver the killing blow. 

Oh, how wrong she was. 

Her girlfriend skidded suddenly into view, the combination of her socked feet and the linoleum floor making her a swift and deadly warrior. Spencer raised her hands in surrender at the unholy sight of death herself. 

“I'm unarmed. Have _mercy_ –!” she barely had time to scream, just as Aria launched the flour. She screwed her eyes shut and it struck her in the face like sand, the cloud of it finding its way into her nose and down her shirt. And all became deathly silent amidst the ashes of war, the victor standing proud but not unscathed, her enemy having been demolished. 

Aria flexed her biceps, her delicate jaw set in stony arrogance. She pointed aggressively at her slain enemy. “That's right! Don't fuck with me, Hastings.” 

Spencer sneezed, upsetting the powder on top of her head. It rained down around her and her eyes watered. “Jesus Christ, Aria. My sinuses...” 

“Sucks for you, sweetheart,” her girlfriend said brusquely, sauntering back to tend to the cake mix. “Get a broom.” 

Spencer rolled her eyes and pushed herself to her feet. There was flour everywhere. She slouched toward the pantry and armed herself with a dustpan. While Aria finished the cake, Spencer swept up the flour, not missing the smug looks the other girl was shooting her. 

“Do you feel better now?” she asked when she was done, dumping the last of the wasted flour into the trash. 

Aria slid the cake pan into the oven, smirking as she set a timer. “Yes, actually.” 

-.-.-.-


End file.
